


we can talk like there's something to say (and i like you)

by taoslefteyelid



Category: EXO (Band), Z.Tao (Musician)
Genre: Alcohol, Fighting, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Stargazing, and depression meds, i love him loads it just had to be this way, kibum shows up and i love him, mention of blood nothing much but it's there, vague mention of depression, zhoumi is also there and im sorry hes the bad guy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25203124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taoslefteyelid/pseuds/taoslefteyelid
Summary: “The stars are so warm,” Sehun mumbles. Warm might not be the right word, but stars and summer are so closely linked, that warm may as well be another descriptor for celestial. “It’s like they’re smiling.”
Relationships: Huang Zi Tao | Z.Tao/Oh Sehun, Kim Jongin | Kai/Park Chanyeol
Comments: 10
Kudos: 30
Collections: Round 4: Spring and Summer





	we can talk like there's something to say (and i like you)

**Author's Note:**

> hello everyone! this is my work for EXO Seasonal Round 4! I absolutely adore this fest, and the prompt I'm filling this time is prompt number 274!  
> i hope everyone is doing well. i know these are hard times, and i hope this fic can help you feel just a little better. i tried to make it as gentle as the prompt i got. please enjoy dumb taohun doing dumb things.

“Zitao,” Sehun whispers out of his window. “If you fall, I’m not going to fucking talk to you for the rest of your life.”

Zitao looks down from where he’s awkwardly perched on the tree right near Sehun’s room.

“Hun-ah, if I fall, I don’t think there  _ will  _ be a rest of my life.” 

Sehun chews his lip nervously. 

“Hurry up and get in. I don’t like being nervous.”

“I don’t see why I’m the one coming in,” Zitao huffs as he tries to balance himself well enough to make the transit from branch to windowsill. “You could’ve just snuck out.” 

“I wanted to be inside,” Sehun says quietly, and he looks as if he wished he didn’t. “Just come in, please.” 

Zitao laughs, clambering his way to the windowsill. He sits on it, feet kicking against Sehun’s wall, as he ducks his head in, a little too close to Sehun’s face to be normal. Sehun doesn’t back away. 

“Don’t worry so much, Hun-ah. I’m not that bad at this.” 

Zitao’s grinning, eyes bright and mouth quirking up infuriatingly. Sehun stares at him for a second, then grabs the front of his shirt and tugs him in. 

He isn’t expecting that, so Zitao tumbles in, landing on the ground with a satisfying “oof”. Sehun’s eyes flit towards the door just to make sure that it’s locked. 

“You could’ve at least put a pillow here or something,” Zitao grumbles. “My elbows hurt.” 

“Boohoo. You almost gave me a heart attack.” 

“Aw,” Zitao says, smiling insufferably again. “Was my darling Hun-ah scared?” 

Sehun considers brushing it off, telling Zitao he wouldn’t care if he fell, but he wants Zitao to feel bad for teasing, so he looks him directly in the eye as Zitao stands. Goddamn Zitao being an inch taller than him. 

“Yes. I thought you’d fall, and it’d be my fault. You made me upset for no reason.” 

“Come on,” Zitao says. “You were worried for me? Am I not supposed to be the tough, hardcore, bad influence on you? Isn’t that why we’re doing this in the first place?” 

Sehun just looks at Zitao, worrying his lip between his teeth again. Zitao’s face softens. 

“Ah, Sehun, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

Instantly, Sehun smiles, bright and wide, making it clear that that’s all he really wanted, for Zitao to give in. It’s a smile Zitao sees often. 

He always gives in. 

\---

Sehun’s lying down with his head in Zitao’s lap in his bed, as Zitao plays with his hair. 

“How’s your family?”, Zitao asks, gently. This is the part of the night where the jokes are over and they’re both mellowing out, where they get emotional and want to cling to each other. 

“Tiring, as always,” Sehun says, inspecting his nails carefully. “Times like this I wonder if I maybe  _ should’ve  _ taken a loan to go to college. At least I’d be away from them.” 

“That’d be no fun,” Zitao says, running his fingers through Sehun’s hair again. “For me, I mean. What would I do without you?” 

Sehun considers it. 

“True,” he says, after a while. “You’d probably have broken your bones trying some stupid stunt by now. Or gotten yourself in some dumb fight.” 

Zitao laughs, but it’s not the harsh, playful laugh he does when he’s teasing. This one is just for Sehun. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Would probably be dead in a ditch somewhere.” 

“Don’t say that,” Sehun whispers. 

Zitao runs his hands over Sehun’s forehead, and brings it back into his hair. 

“Okay,” he says, simply. 

“Change the topic,” Sehun says, breath catching a little in his throat. He’s a little sensitive sometimes. It’s okay. Zitao always understands. 

“I saw a butterfly today. Thought of you.” 

Sehun laughs, resting his hand gently against Zitao’s in his hair. This is a lot more intimate than most friends are, but that’s okay. It’s Zitao. 

“It’s like everything you see reminds you of me.” 

“That is  _ untrue _ ,” Zitao says, in mock offense. “Only things that are pretty. Or things that are blue.” 

“Shut up!”, Sehun giggles, covering his face with his hands. “You’re so dumb sometimes.” 

“Hey,” Zitao warns. “That’s between us. I have a reputation.” 

“Oh, really? What reputation?” 

Zitao hums. 

“I’m supposed to be this mean, brooding fuckboy, who has too many piercings and gets into fights and is only ever going to work a minimum wage job.” 

“Only two of those things are true,” Sehun says. “I’m going to expose you for being a fraud.” 

Zitao gasps. 

“You really don’t think I have too many piercings? Ah, I knew there was a reason you’re my best friend, Hun-ah.” 

“You do have too many piercings. And you get into too many fights. Everything else is just people judging you because you like leather.” 

Zitao turns sharply to him, hand freezing in his hair. 

“You really think I’m going to do something with my life other than bag groceries and sell movie tickets?” 

“Number one, there’s nothing wrong with doing that, and number two, of course you will.” 

“You have too much faith in me,” Zitao says, resuming his stroking of Sehun’s hair. 

“I have to,” Sehun mumbles, closing his eyes. “You don’t have enough.” 

\---

Zitao leaves as the first glimpse of morning arrives, making his way down the tree with Sehun glued to the window, biting his nails as he tries to make sure Zitao doesn’t fall by telekinesis. 

He sighs when Zitao waves up to him one last time, and turns away from the window. He stands there for a second, unsure of what to do with himself. His eyes catch his bed, on the far side of the room. 

Sehun huffs, and makes his way over. This is not going to do  _ his _ bones any favours. 

After a lot of pushing and sweating and one very ungracefully chipped nail, Sehun steps back proudly. It’s going to be hard to avoid waking up at dawn now that his bed is right up against the window, but sacrifices have to be made sometimes. 

All for Zitao’s elbows.

\---

The weekend has Sehun sneaking out of his house to attend a party. He feels like he’s in high school all over again, except in high school he was not getting invited to any parties at all. This time, however, Jongin is the one throwing the party, so Sehun gets an automatic invite. “I-got-you-your-boyfriend-so-now-you-owe-me-forever” privilege. 

Jongin’s house is… strange. It’s an apartment in the singular apartment complex in their town, but somehow, it always seems huge. There’s music pulsing  _ way  _ too loud, and Sehun knows Jongin is going to be in trouble for this. 

When Sehun walks in, there are already too many people, crammed into the living room. Someone is definitely smoking, because the smell hits Sehun two steps in. 

He really needs to get to the alcohol. 

Sehun asks a completely drunk girl who he kinda sorta knows from high school if she knows where Jongin and/or the alcohol is, and she points him in the vague direction of the kitchen. 

Jongin is sitting on the kitchen island when he walks in, making out with his himbo of a boyfriend, who’s standing over him with what looks like a bowl of Froot Loops in his hand. Sehun winces. There’s milk all over the floor. 

“Hey lovebirds,” he calls out, inching his way over to where he can  _ see  _ the vodka. “Find any brain cells down each other's throats?” 

Sehun would ask Chanyeol where Zitao is, since they live together, but it looks like he’s too drunk and too cuddly right now to even try to remember.

  
  


Chanyeol and Jongin pull away from each other, and Sehun has two seconds to prepare himself to be hugged by a six foot two labrador in human form holding a bowl of milk and sugar. Chanyeol is… excitable. 

“Noooo,” Sehun whines, as he begins to feel milk on his overshirt. He turns pleadingly to Jongin, who’s pouting on the island. “Get your boyfriend off me.” 

“Suffer,” Jongin says. “Serves you right for breaking up the  _ awesome _ make-out session we were having.”

“Well, excuse me for not wanting to watch you slobber all over each other as I got my alcohol,” Sehun says, as he wrestles himself away from Chanyeol. He scrunches his nose, twisting to try and see the back of his shirt. It’s all soggy with milk, as expected.

“Boo,” Jongin says flatly. Sehun rolls his eyes and walks over to the vodka. “I’m booing you,” Jongin clarifies. Sehun ignores him, turning around to fiddle open the cap on the bottle. 

It’s harder than he thought it would be, and he spends a disgraceful amount of time struggling with it, and he’s finally starting to consider just asking for a knife so he can saw the neck of the bottle off, when a pair of arms wrap around him. 

“Chanyeol,” he huffs. “If you want cuddles, either go to Jongin, or at least wait till I’m like three shots down.” 

“Not Chanyeol,” says a familiar voice. Sehun smiles at the vodka, before swivelling around to see Zitao. 

“Hi,” he says casually, as if his heart hasn’t sped up by a factor of a thousand. 

“Hello,” Zitao says, just as flippantly. “I could’ve picked you up.” 

“I know,” Sehun says. “Got bored. Open this for me?” 

He shoves the bottle in Zitao’s face, regretting that Zitao will have to let go of him to open it, but hey, sacrifices. 

Zitao takes it from him and steps back, turning to Jongin and Chanyeol on the island. He opens the bottle easily, with one twist, and hands it over. Sehun sighs gratefully and leans against the counter, before fully sitting on it, as he takes a swig, straight from the bottle. God, he hates how vodka tastes. 

“Damn,” Chanyeol says, trying to act like Jongin isn’t in his lap trying to kiss his neck without sending them both to the ground. “I’ve been trying to get that bottle open for weeks. Wanna help us break down Jongin’s landlord’s door and watch us makeout in his fancy bathtub?” 

“No thank you,” Zitao says. “I- I think I’m good.” 

“Also, that would be  _ super _ illegal,” Sehun says, gesturing with his bottle. 

“Oh, look who’s talking about laws and stuff,” Chanyeol mumbles. “Mr. Underage Drinking. That’s who.” 

“I’m 22?” 

Chanyeol narrows his eyes, to process all this new information, as if he didn’t plan Sehun’s birthday party with Zitao. 

“Well,” he finally decides. “We all know you dye your hair blond.” 

“That’s- that’s not a crime.”

“Fuck this,” Jongin says. He turns to Chanyeol. “Wanna ditch this party and fuck?” 

“Yes,” Chanyeol replies, simply. “Always.” 

Jongin slips off Chanyeol’s lap, pulling him off the island as well, and they disappear out the door into the tangled mass of people that is the living room, with a poetic “Later, whores.” 

“Anyone gonna tell them this is their party?”, Sehun says, kicking his legs against the dishwasher. 

“Doubt it. Also, don’t freak out, but I think they invited Kibum.”

Sehun spits out the swig of vodka he was taking. It burns like  _ hell _ . 

“Why?”, he splutters, as Zitao rushes over to check on him. 

Kim Kibum is  _ the _ most terrifying person that Sehun has ever known. It’s nothing about how he dresses or his reputation, or anything stupid like that. No, Kibum has very good fashion sense, actually, and he’s shorter than Sehun, so he doubts that he could cause him any physical harm. Sehun is scared of him because Kibum likes to stand in doorways and just stare at people until they start crying. It’s like something out of a horror movie.

“Why what?”, Zitao laughs, when it becomes clear that Sehun is okay and not dying a vodka induced death. “Why did they invite him? They both clearly have death wishes.” 

Sehun grumpily reaches for the bottle in Zitao’s hand, to wash down the feeling of hellfire in his throat. Zitao pulls it away. 

He somehow steps closer, wedging himself in the space between Sehun’s legs so that they’re both looking directly at each other. Sehun looks up at him and swallows. 

“I know your plan is to get absolutely wasted tonight,” he says, and Sehun nods, reaching for the bottle again, but Zitao hides it behind his back. “ _ But _ , what do you say we ditch, make our way down the fire escape, and I take you stargazing?” 

Sehun looks up at Zitao, awkwardly hunching his shoulders so as not to have his head pressing against the overhead cabinets. 

_ Don’t kiss him don’t kiss him don’t kiss him don’t kiss him don’t kiss him- _

“Deal,” Sehun says, a little too loud. “What’s the break out plan?”

Zitao smiles. 

“So, the fire escape is down the hall,” he starts, talking like he’s Tom Cruise, except he isn’t gross. “We’ll have to make our way down through the living room, but I’m thinking that if I pick you up and spin around helicopter blade style, we’d be able to clear enough space to weasel our way out-”

That’s when Sehun sees him by the refrigerator.

“Oh my god,” he whispers, turning back to meet Zitao’s eyes directly. Zitao stops talking, looking curiously at him. Sehun puts his trembling fingertips on Zitao’s face. 

“Zitao,” he says, steady and gentle. “Don’t look now, but…” 

He trails off, unable to finish the horror of that sentence. Zitao’s eyes widen.

“Oh god,” Zitao whispers back. “He’s behind me, isn’t he? It’s Kibu-” 

“Shh! Don’t say his name.” 

“What’s the plan?”, Zitao asks, dramatically reaching for Sehun’s hand on his face, as if they’re saying their final goodbyes. 

“Okay. You run faster than I do.” 

Zitao nods in agreement. Sehun pretends to think for a second, and then sets his jaw. 

“You pick me up, keep your eyes on mine so neither of us make eye contact with Kibum and turn to stone, and book it out of here. Then, we do the helicopter blade plan. We have one shot, don’t blow this.” 

“Yes sir,” Zitao replies. He reaches out to hook his hands under Sehun’s knees and Sehun slings his arm around his shoulders. 

“If we die doing this,” he starts, very loudly. “I need you to know that-” 

“Shh,” Zitao says. “We’ll make it. I promise we will.” 

Sehun wipes a fake tear from his eye. 

“Okay. I’m ready.” 

Zitao scoops Sehun up and whirls them around, pausing for a split second, just to see Kibum staring at them with an apple in hand. Zitao starts sprinting then, and Sehun hangs on for dear life. 

He’s not a hundred percent sure, but it feels like they’re both screaming as they torpedo into the living room. 

Sehun clings a little harder. 

\---

“Okay,” Zitao says, slightly out of breath, which is to be expected after you run for like ten minutes while carrying someone else. They’ve flopped down on the grass in the little meadow that’s a little way from Jongin’s apartment. It’s a decent view of the sky. 

“Before I start pointing out all the constellations and impress you, I need you to know,” he says, and Sehun turns from looking at the moon to looking at him. “I have  _ no _ idea what I’m talking about.” 

Sehun laughs, high and clear, and shifts closer to Zitao. 

“Good. Make stuff up for me.” 

“Yes sir,” Zitao says, playfully. “I’ll need to think for a bit.” 

They descend into a soft silence for a few moments. Ambiguity has always been wholly theirs, but right now, Sehun kind of really wants to roll over into Zitao’s side and cling to him. 

He thinks Zitao would let him. 

“The stars are so warm,” Sehun mumbles. Warm might not be the right word, but stars and summer are so closely linked, that warm may as well be another descriptor for celestial. “It’s like they’re smiling.” 

“Mhm?”, Zitao asks, turning to him, smiling more fondly than any star could. Sehun shifts a little closer to him. 

“I have one for you,” Zitao announces, stretching his arm out. “That one, right there? You see it? Those three dim stars in a straight line with the bright ones around it.” 

“Yeah,” Sehun confirms. 

“That is… a fox,” Zitao decides. “Yeah, that’s a fox.” 

“Okay,” Sehun agrees, trying not to laugh. “Why’s it up there?” 

“Hmm. It wanted to be there,” Zitao decides. “To look over everything, always.” 

“Everything?”

“Everything. Well, everything, but specifically this other fox. His best friend.” 

Sehun smiles, his forehead now completely pressed into Zitao’s shoulder. He isn’t even looking at the stars anymore. 

“Yeah?”, Sehun asks, and Zitao is nice and warm, so he presses closer. He was right. Zitao does let him. 

“Yeah. His friend has a habit of… getting in trouble. So he likes to stay up there and look out for him.” 

Sehun hums. 

“So is the fox you or me?” 

Zitao lets out a burst of laughter, loud, piercing through the warm air. His chest rumbles comfortingly, and Sehun can feel it from where he’s clinging to Zitao. 

“You can choose,” he says. “I’m not picky.” 

Sehun thinks for a moment. His thoughts are cloudy; the few swigs of alcohol and the warm night are catching up to him. 

“Well,” he mumbles out, after a while, eyes closed. “I just hope that whichever fox you are, you’ll take me home if I fall asleep.” 

“Of course I will,” Zitao says, quietly. “I always do.” 

\---

Zitao tumbles onto Sehun’s bed with a quiet “oomph”. It’s Wednesday now, three days since Sehun had fallen asleep by Zitao’s side while stargazing. 

“Hi,” he grins out, one hand still clutching the windowsill. Sehun gives him an unimpressed look; he still thinks that this tree business is dangerous, but for all Zitao complains, he tries to limit Sehun’s sneaking out as much as he can.

“Get your shoes off my bed.” 

Zitao huffs at him. 

“You know,” he says, “Most people would ask if their best friend in the whole world is okay after climbing a tree to tumble through a window. I nicked my finger.” 

There’s a slight whine in his tone, like he’s playing at being a baby. He forgets who he’s talking to. 

Sehun looks at Zitao, his entire demeanour shifting, pout coming across his face. 

“But  _ gege _ ,” he says, emphasising the one mandarin word he never fucks up the pronunciation of. He moves closer to Zitao. “My sheets are white, and your shoes are all muddy. I’ve already told you how worried I am, but you don’t listen, so I can’t do anything.” 

Zitao stares at him, open mouthed, as if he  _ wasn’t _ expecting this. Amateur. Finally, after a minute or so, he speaks.

“How the  _ fuck _ did you manage to do a sad face emoji out loud?” 

Sehun laughs, breaking character, and then reaches to shove Zitao’s feet off his bed. 

“I just happen to be a pro at looking cute. Not my fault you fall for it every time.”

Zitao shakes his head slowly. Sehun reaches for his hand, to look for the scrape Zitao was trying to whine about. Zitao looks at him. 

“Which hand has the cut?”, Sehun asks. 

Zitao smiles sheepishly. 

“I, uh, made that up. Wanted some precious attention from my darling Hun-ah.” 

Sehun looks at him, scrunches his eyebrows, and then punches his shoulder. 

“Ow!”, Zitao exclaims, hand flying to rub at his bicep. Sehun moves away from him. 

“I hate you.” 

“Hun-ah, please-” 

Sehun gives him a look. 

“Don’t pretend you have injuries for attention, I give you more than enough of that without you feigning scrapes and bruises.” 

Zitao sighs and kicks his shoes off, lying on Sehun’s bed, staring at him, still smiling. 

“You’re really something when you get annoyed, you know?” 

“Watch what you’re saying, or I’ll kick you out.”

“Hey,” Zitao pouts. “Be nice. I’ve been good all month. No fights, no smoking, I haven’t even tickled you for a bit.” 

Sehun gives him a wary look, backpedalling a bit, away from Zitao’s evil hands. 

“Nooooo,” Zitao whines, reaching out lazily from Sehun’s bed. “Come back. No tickling, promise.” 

He ignores him, scoffing as he sits on the floor, just to spite Zitao. 

“The only reason you haven’t gotten into any fights is because the college just had finals.” 

The nearby college has almost 50% of their graduating high school class. Sehun had gotten into colleges outside their state, but he’d decided not to go. Finances, family stuff. All the usual excuses. Zitao had taken a gap year, and then another, and then another, and then gave up on even pretending to put it off. 

Some of said high school class are dickheads. Zitao doesn’t like dickheads. 

“Still counts,” Zitao mumbles. 

“Uh huh,” Sehun says. “Sure.” 

“Stop being pouty, Hun-ah.”

Sehun looks up at him, and then sighs. 

“You’re annoying.” 

“I know.”

“And stupid.” 

“You’re the one who’s friends with me.” 

“And I hate you.” 

“I love you too.” 

Sehun tries his best to scowl, but it’s too hard to hide his smile. 

\---

He’s sitting in Jongin’s apartment, watching a bad movie that he’s already forgotten the title of. Chanyeol and Jongin sit next to him, cuddling, and being disgusting in general. Zitao isn’t there- yet. Chanyeol had said something about him wanting to leave their house later. 

He digs into his tub of ice cream aggressively. 

“I think I have a thing for Zitao,” he announces, over the movie. 

“Took you long enough to figure it out,” Jongin says after a moment. Sehun pretends to not notice Chanyeol handing Jongin money. 

Sehun hums, and goes back to his ice cream.

\---

“Do you think we could ever get out of here?”, Zitao asks. They’re sitting on the sidewalk, all four of them, Zitao, Sehun, Jongin and Chanyeol. 

“If we really wanted to, I think we could,” Jongin mumbles out. It’s starting to get dark outside. 

“Let’s do it,” Zitao breathes out. Sehun’s sitting next to him, sandwiched between him and Chanyeol, and he can feel the tremor under Zitao’s skin. He puts his head on Zitao’s shoulder. “I bet we could all get an apartment somewhere else if we pooled everything.” 

No one says anything, letting Zitao’s words carry through the quickly setting night. It’s too bold of a statement, too brave of an admission to remember that they could run away and start over. 

“We left the ice cream out,” Chanyeol remembers. “It’s probably melted by now.” 

“Race you up?”, Zitao asks. 

“Winner gets all the ice cream soup,” Chanyeol agrees. 

Sehun laughs, and Jongin shakes his head. 

“Hun-ah,” Zitao asks. “Count up for us.” 

Sehun smiles, gives Jongin a “why are we friends with them” look, and then sighs. 

“Alright. One, two, t-” 

Sehun doesn’t even have time to say three before they’re both running. 

\---

When Sehun sneaks back into his house, careful not to wake his already massively disappointed parents, he thinks about what Zitao said. 

Maybe they  _ could  _ get out of here. 

\---

“You really like the stars, huh?”, Sehun asks. They’re out stargazing again. 

“Not really,” Zitao breathes out. “I like you more.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

\---

It’s sometime in the next week, and this time it’s Sehun lying in Zitao’s bed. 

“Is your car back yet?”

Zitao’s car has been in the shop for a while, something about a faulty battery and a broken radiator.

Zitao shakes his head. 

“Not yet. I can take you out on Jongin’s if you want, though.” 

“Nah, it’s okay.” 

Zitao stands from the chair at his desk, and makes his way to his bed. Sehun scoots over, making space for both of them to lie side by side, both staring at the ceiling. 

Sehun puts his hand over Zitao’s. 

“Tell you what,” Zitao says. “When we all move out of here, you can go to college finally.” 

Sehun laughs. 

“I don’t have that kind of money. Besides, my parents aren’t going to bankroll a degree they don’t like. I’m enough of a disappointment already.” 

“We’ll figure it out,” Zitao says. “Just tell me you’ll come with and it’ll all work out.” 

Hiding a smile, Sehun inches closer to Zitao.

“Every step of the way.” 

\---

It’s that part of the night again, mellow and calm, without any jokes or wild plans or anything that they normally talk about. 

Sehun’s resting his head on Zitao’s chest, playing with the odd thread on his shirt. It’s so hot, but neither of them mind. 

“Hun-ah,” Zitao says, gently. “Did you take your meds today?”

“Yeah,” Sehun mumbles. 

“Just checking.” 

“You worry too much.” 

Zitao’s hand comes up to stop Sehun from pulling at the thread. 

“Stop,” he laughs. “I’ll be left with no shirt if you keep pulling at that.” 

Sehun ignores him, reaching for Zitao’s hand, playing with his fingers instead of his shirt now. 

“I missed you,” Sehun says, even though they’d hung out with Jongin and Chanyeol  _ yesterday _ . “Just us. I feel like we haven’t done this forever.” 

Zitao tilts his head slightly, and Sehun can feel him smiling. 

“I’ll take you stargazing again tomorrow?”, Zitao asks. They haven’t gone since last week, and the sky never changes, but Zitao’s stories always do, so Sehun goes willingly. 

Sehun closes his eyes.

“I’d like that.” 

\---

Sehun stumbles out the door, veering off a lot further right than he wanted to. He’s drunk out of his  _ mind _ , and the shots he’s downed haven’t even had their full effect yet. Bordering on dangerously clumsy and sluggish, all he wants to do is sleep, but him and Zitao are supposed to be watching the stars tonight. 

He hadn’t  _ planned _ on drinking, but it was a little too cold and a little too lonely and he wanted to show up for their stargazing session a little fashionably late, so one shot turned to two which somehow turned to five. 

It doesn’t take long to reach their stargazing spot, the same little meadow by Jongin’s apartment. Zitao’s right there, and Sehun smiles wide, goofy almost, until he realises that Zitao isn’t alone. 

Zitao’s sitting cross-legged on the grass, having a conversation with someone in the back of a very distinct pick-up truck by the side of the road.

Zhoumi. 

Neither of them have seen him yet, but Sehun’s blood is already boiling. Zhoumi is one of the reasons Zitao ends up in Sehun’s room wincing as Sehun rubs antiseptic on his knuckles. Asshole.

“Don’t you have things to do?”, Sehun can hear him sneer if he listens hard enough. “Always knew all you did was sit around being useless.” 

He can hear Zitao too, and his voice sounds… cheery. Sehun's stomach turns. That’s not how he should be reacting. 

“Fuck off, Zhoumi,” and Sehun can hear the smile in Zitao’s voice. This is all wrong, his clouded mind whispers, Zitao should be fighting right now, not smiling. 

“Rude.”

“What’s the point of this again?”, Zitao asks. Sehun walks through the trees faster. 

“I just like pointing out how much of a failure you are. It doesn’t seem to affect you though, it’s so much more fun when I talk shit about someone else and you get-” 

He doesn’t get the chance to finish, because Sehun is there in a flash, running out and past Zitao as fast as his slightly hazy state will allow, punching him square in the face. Sehun has never hit someone in his life, but he has seen Zitao do it, and his fist connects solidly with Zhoumi’s face. 

Sehun has little chance to revel in his victory, before he’s being shoved. Normally, he’d be able to shove right back, but he’s drunk and clumsy and the way his meds and the alcohol are mixing is making him drowsy, so he trips and lets gravity take its course, falling, barely wincing when the tiny stones amongst the grass scrape against his skin. 

For a second the thought of Zhoumi hurting him crosses his mind, but the grass is comfortable and Sehun can hear Zitao scramble over, so he stays there, angry and drunk and lying in the grass. 

In the periphery of his senses, he manages to piece together that Zitao is currently beating the shit out of Zhoumi, if the thud of Zitao’s fist repeatedly hitting Zhoumi’s face is anything to go by. It takes a couple of seconds till Sehun collects himself enough to sit up, to even  _ think  _ to do anything. His whole world is spinning a bit, but he props himself up on his elbows. 

Zitao has Zhoumi up against the pickup, repeatedly punching him, and Sehun can see blood starting to make its way out of a gash on his cheek. 

“Zitao,” he calls out weakly. He’s not hurt, just tired. “Zitao, stop, stop, he’s done.” 

It’s like a switch turns off in Zitao’s head, and he lets go of Zhoumi’s shirt immediately, letting him lean against the truck and tilt his head back. 

“Come here,” Sehun says as he pushes himself to sit. He really needs a nap. It’s futile to call Zitao over though, because he’s already by Sehun’s side. 

“Hey,” Sehun slurs out, smiling. Zitao’s face, Zitao. Everything is good right now. The night is so warm. 

“What were you thinking?”, Zitao manages to say. “Are you okay? Are you-” 

Sehun frowns at him. His mind is growing fuzzier by the second, alcohol taking a firmer grip of him, and Zitao’s concern is stressful. He watches as Zitao brings his hands up, probably to check if Sehun’s hurt. He isn’t; he’s just drunk. 

The same however, can’t be said for Zitao. 

Sehun gasps, a little dramatic as he catches sight of Zitao’s hands. 

“Oh, your hands,” he mumbles out, reaching for Zitao’s fingers, trying to look for a way to tend to the bleeding knuckles. “You’re bleeding.” 

Zitao stares at him, before he finally realises. 

“You’re drunk.” 

“Hm,” Sehun says, noncommittally. 

Zitao looks at him for a second, and then brushes the hair out of Sehun’s face, no doubt leaving Sehun’s cheek a little bloodstained. 

“And you say I’m the reckless one.” 

\---

“Why didn’t you-” Sehun starts to mumble, lying on the couch in Zitao and Chanyeol’s living room. Zitao crouches near him, bandages sloppily placed on his knuckles. “Why didn’t you start fighting earlier?” 

Zitao blinks. 

“I thought you didn’t like me fighting?” 

“I… I don’t,” Sehun says, trying to figure out how to say what he wants to. “I don’t like you getting hurt, I mean. But the things he were saying were so stupid, why didn’t you tell him to shut up or something?” 

“Ah, not worth it, Hun-ah. I really only say anything if they drag someone else in, because otherwise it doesn’t matter. Assholes will be assholes.” 

“I don’t think you’re a failure,” Sehun says, searching Zitao’s face. He smiles. 

“I know, Hun-ah.” 

“I think you’re the coolest person in the world.” 

“I know, Hun-ah.” 

“I also think I’m a little bit in love with you.” 

“I know, H- wait,  _ what?” _

It’s like Sehun’s filter is completely gone, so he smiles sweetly and says it again. 

“In love with you. Have been for a while.” 

The look on Zitao’s face is a mixture of shock and hope and something that kinda looks like a “ _ finally” _ but Sehun watches as he swallows it down and clears his throat. 

“You’re  _ drunk _ ,” Zitao manages to push out. 

Sehun thinks about that for a second. He’s right, but that doesn’t mean anything. 

“Mm, I can be both,” he mumbles. Wow, he knew Prozac and alcohol together make you sleepy, but at the rate he’s going, he’ll be asleep in the next five minutes. 

The last thing he remembers is Zitao’s hand slipping over his own. 

\---

“Good morning,” Zitao says carefully, when Sehun emerges from the bathroom in Zitao’s room. Sehun’s head is  _ killing _ him, but at least he's washed his face and done all the morning things. 

They stare at each other for a second, and last night’s startling honesty hits Sehun in the face. Oh. He really had done that. 

Honestly, he thought his big love confession would be more dramatic, but hey, you gotta do what you gotta do, so Sehun shakes his hands to get rid of the water still clinging to them and rolls his eyes, before making his way over to two centimeters away from Zitao’s face. 

Zitao gapes at him, and Sehun wonders why he fell for an idiot, before grabbing him by his T-shirt and pulling him in for a kiss. 

He kisses back almost immediately, hands settling on Sehun’s waist, while Sehun brings his up to tangle in Zitao’s hair. It takes a second before Zitao’s moving, pushing to press Sehun up against the wall. Sehun goes willingly, breaking away for air as they move. 

“Told you I could be both,” he breathes out. 

“Uh-huh,” Zitao says. “Would it surprise you if I told you I felt the same?” 

Sehun doesn’t have a chance to respond, because he’s too busy kissing the life out of Zitao. 

It doesn’t surprise him.

\---

“The stars are so warm,” Zitao mumbles, slipping up behind Sehun and wrapping his arms around him as they stare up at the sky, standing on the balcony of their little one bedroom apartment in the city.

“Mhm?”, Sehun smiles, turning his head to kiss Zitao’s cheek. 

“It’s like they’re smiling.” 

Sehun laughs, leaning back into Zitao. 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“Your idiot.” 

“Can’t argue with that.”

“Better not,” Zitao says. “I like you too much, I’d be heartbroken if you didn’t think I was yours.” 

Sehun smiles, letting Zitao hold them. The silence is quiet and mellow. 

This is how it was always meant to be.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! i always love writing for seasonal, and i hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
